Wild Justice
by unexceptional
Summary: Darkness has won. Almost.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter I**

Attempting to blend into dirt is degrading.

Compound this with the knowledge that, if found, taunts would be made regarding your blood heritage and life suddenly feels like a giant heap of unfair.

Hermione Granger had been struggling to remain hidden for over an hour. The Death Eaters had been circling her temporary camp ground in the middle of the Bialowieza Forest in Belarus for what felt like an eternity. They had found her wand instantly. She had dropped it out of sheer terror after hearing the first pop of Apparition close by and now she was mentally kicking herself for the stupidity of it. The best plan she could muster was to press her face in the dirt and hide in the dense forest shrub on the outskirts of the clearing until they disappeared, hopefully leaving her wand behind. Hermione was thankful that it didn't appear to be herself they were after.

She had been on the run for a year. Voldemort, as it turned out, was a whole lot more powerful than anyone had ever anticipated. Upon defeating Harry at Hogwarts castle in their final showdown, Hermione had Apparated out of the area as fast as she could. The Bialowieza Forest was the first place that had sprung in her mind. She had visited once as a Muggle tourist, before she had ever known about magic. It was a perfect hideaway, due to its sheer size and distance from England.

In hindsight, Hermione knew she had been a coward. Of course, her cowardice had spared her life. The Muggleborns who had remained behind in their defeat had been annihilated within seconds.

She hadn't seen or heard from a single member of the Weasley family since her exile and she had resisted the temptation of finding her parents in Australia. Hermione had told herself that Ron would understand why she had disappeared so quickly, but the sharp voice in the back of her mind told her he was probably dead. Her parents did not even know she existed.

She was utterly and completely alone. The few people Hermione had been in contact with had not wanted to help. It was much safer to turn a blind eye and silence her desperate pleas than to become the next victim of Voldemort's anti-Muggle vendetta. The penalty for aiding a Muggleborn was death. The penalty for _being_ a Muggleborn was torture and then death.

It appeared even the Death Eaters were starting to question their loyalties to the Dark Lord. From the snippets of information she had managed to digest, it appeared that nothing made you safe. Not even a Dark Mark. Hermione had heard reports that Death Eaters had been dying at the hand of Voldemort at the same rate as the Muggleborn conspirators they were charged with detaining. The level of truth in this rumour was yet to be revealed however, as Hermione had spent the best part of the year attempting to dodge death.

Hermione was disgusted, although not at all surprised, to recognise the Death Eaters in her clearing. Classmates from what felt like a lifetime ago at Hogwarts, though it had only been two years, they all had belonged to the house of Slytherin. The humiliation of being found covered in mud grew tenfold.

She could see the silver glow of Draco Malfoy's hair as he squatted next to where her wand had been found. He was examining it with undivided curiosity, occasionally raking his eyes across the clearing. Once or twice, Hermione was sure he had seen her as she cowered under low laying shrub, but he appeared to see straight through her.

"We are wasting our time," Millicent Bulstrode said with agitation as she walked her hundredth circle around the clearing, kicking rocks out of her path and not really knowing for sure what she was supposed to be looking for, "We were meant to be back at the Manor half an hour ago. The Dark Lord doesn't care for the trivialities of an abandoned wand."

Draco snorted from his place in the clearing but didn't comment. He was still consumed by the wand that balanced delicately on the palm of his hand.

"Millicent is right, we should go back," Miles Bletchely, the leader of the group, agreed, "There is nothing here. Draco, stay behind and cast the necessary charms should the wizard come back. If it is a Mudblood the Dark Lord will want us to get rid of it."

Draco nodded and watched as the rest of the group Disapparated before getting to his feet and pulling his own wand from his robes.

Hermione observed with bated breath as he glanced once more at her wand in his hand. He seemed to be weighing a decision in his mind and Hermione did not like the look of determination that suddenly flickered across his sharp features as he seemed to make his choice.

"Granger, I can see you hiding in that bush," Draco said loudly into the cool afternoon sun, looking directly at the hiding spot Hermione was currently occupying.

Hermione choked back her fear. Her mind racing, she didn't move an inch. What was she to do? She couldn't possibly make a run for it. Draco would hit her in the back with a stunning spell (if she was lucky) before she had made it past the first trees. If he caught her, she would be as good as dead. Without her wand she was defenceless. The few wandless spells she knew were useless. She mentally kicked herself again for being stupid enough to drop her wand in the first place.

"Granger!" Draco growled again impatiently when she still hadn't moved. He pointed his wand at the shrub and waited for her to stand. She did so slowly, hands raised.

"Malfoy," Hermione nodded curtly, trying to neutralise her face and failing miserably. She could tell she was wearing a mask of utter petrifaction.

Draco continued to stare at her, unblinking and when he didn't instantly attempt to kill or curse her, she lowered her hands.

"How long have you been hiding here Granger," he asked briskly, glancing around once more at the circle of trees and thick undergrowth, the disdain evident on his sharp features.

Hermione wasn't entirely sure how to respond. She could not decipher Draco's motivation in conversing with her and she was afraid of giving too much away. A year living within the Bialowieza Forest's walls had made her a little crazy. She knew she was starting to lose a grip on what was reality. The loneliness that had engulfed her in the weeks after her escape was now suddenly palpable as she relished in the first human contact she had had in months. Hermione did not even care that her company was Draco Malfoy, archenemies, and that he had a wand trained on her or that he had a fierce look upon his face that made her uncertain of what he planned to do next.

"That depends on your definition of here," Hermione said carefully, "do you mean this clearing or the forest?"

"Both," Draco replied evenly. He was yet to lower his wand, and Hermione was uncomfortably aware of her own wand still residing with him.

"This particular spot is temporary," Hermione told him, "I was only here a few hours prior to your arrival. As for the forest, I've been here all along."

It certainly wasn't a lie and she hadn't given anything important away. The permanent clearing that had become her home was several kilometres away, protected by enchantments and spells. Hermione would not speak the location to Draco could she help it. It was the only spot on Earth where, for the moment, she safely belonged. As isolated as it was, she craved its comfort and security now more than ever. She was certain that at any moment she was about to die.

Draco looked her over thoughtfully. She looked exactly as she had a year ago in the final battle at Hogwarts; perhaps a fraction thinner, but still healthy and young. She was covered in debris from the forest floor and her hair was a matted knot on top of her head. Her winter-thick clothes were showing signs of wear and her gloved hands were smeared with dirt. He was surprised at the relief he had felt upon discovering her wand. She was the connection to the Old World he had begun to crave with each passing day. Lord Voldemort, in his opinion, had been a giant mistake.

"Are there others?" He asked casually, attempting to gauge her situation.

Hermione shook her head mutely, not daring to take her watchful eyes off the boy who had caused her such despair since her entrance into the wizarding world nine years prior.

Draco just nodded, satisfied that they were alone, and then, to Hermione's surprise, lowered his wand. She visibly relaxed as the threat he posed dissipated.

"Where are you staying?" He enquired, "How are you surviving?"

Hermione laughed a humourless gurgle that she hadn't utilised in a long time, "I'm not telling you anything Malfoy."

Hermione had, over the course of a few months, managed to acquire several important documents she was hoping to use to spark a chain of events that would, with a bit of luck, lead to the demise of the current regime. In her possession were maps indicating the locations of several known Death Eater base camps and proposed ghettos for the Muggles that had been unfortunate enough to survive the mass genocide Voldemort had systematically carried out in his first six months of power. She had also managed to seize several documents, outlining plans to divvy up the wealth and power to the remaining Pureblood families, once the ghettos had been effectively put in place and the last of the Muggleborns and Blood-Traitors had been rounded up and disposed of. Hermione had been disgusted to also discover that Voldemort planned to use the remaining Muggles as slaves and guinea pigs for testing of a proposed sterilization charm.

Draco narrowed his eyes as he watched her and then, almost without thought, threw the girl's wand back to its owner. Hermione caught it with a surprised squeak, a red spark emitting from its end as it was returned. Hermione looked down at it with confusion and then back at Draco. He had just aided her in the ability to escape his capture. Looking closely, Hermione realised he didn't look at all concerned about the possibility of her getaway. She took a step back towards the trees and thick vegetation, preparing to dart for cover as soon as his attention waned.

"I have no interest in harming you Granger," Draco spoke calmly as he watched her edge towards safety, "I'm looking for my own escape."

Hermione pulled up short. Draco Malfoy was attempting to escape? From what! She had never felt more spite towards another human being in all her life. Did he not realise the sheer amount of luck he had been born with? Pureblood _and_ a Malfoy. He would have been spared no matter what the outcome had been in the final battle. He was like a slippery snake, with the ability to slime his way out of every tight situation he had ever been faced with. What could have possibly happened in the real world for Draco Malfoy to want out?

"What happened to you Malfoy?" Hermione asked venomously, "Voldemort proving too much for you? Should have thought about that before you and your idiot friends decided he was the best way to get what you wanted."

Hermione had heard that life in the open was hard for everyone. How could it not be with a deranged psychopath implemented as head of state? But she had never considered, not in a million years, that the boy standing before her, looking as maliciously proud as the day they had met, would be having second thoughts about his choice to support Voldemort.

Hermione's lip curled with disdain.

Draco had made it clear from an early age that he wanted nothing more than to rid the world of people just like her. He had gone out of his way to prove to her how much he despised her. He had taken the Dark Mark and attempted to kill Dumbledore to confirm he was a wicked threat to be taken seriously.

Hermione could not believe he had the gall to stand before her and complain while she had struggled and fought and clawed to survive in the desolate wilderness that had forcefully become her home.

_How dare he stand there with that woe-is-me attitude!_

"I was disillusioned," Draco replied, trying to keep his voice calm, "and you have no idea what you are talking about."

Draco had loathed Hermione for almost a decade. As a child in school, he would entertain himself for hours writing a list about all the things he didn't like about her. He hated her friends, her cleverness, her rise in fame. He hated her ridiculously unruly hair. He hated her blood. But what he had hated the most was the way she occasionally looked at him with pity instead of abhorrence. There had never been anything to feel sorry about.

The hate that he had felt was mellowed by the dawning realisation that perhaps the Muggleborn was his ticket out of the current animosity that had become the daily ritual of his life.

"Tell me Malfoy, which part of Voldemort have you been disillusioned by?" Hermione seethed, her breath coming hard and fast as her anger threatened to boil over, "Was it all the people he has murdered to get what he wants or the bit where he doesn't give a shit about your worthless family anymore?"

Her words were like a slap in the face. Draco was suddenly seeing red. Anger, mingled with unadulterated family pride swelled within and he took a lunging step forward, causing Hermione to recoil quickly, moving further into the trees. He dived after her, collecting her around the neck and knocking her to the ground. Hands around her throat, he squeezed hard, attempting to stifle the air, and his embarrassment, in her lungs.

Hermione, for the second time that day, had dropped her wand in fright. She gasped in surprise as Draco's face loomed over her own. His mouth was twisted in an ugly snarl and he was going red in the face. A vein was throbbing dangerously down his temple. Hermione thought he looked deranged.

She bucked violently, attempting to flip him off; her arm splayed wildly grasping hopelessly for her wand which was just out of her reach. She was helpless underneath him. Weak.

"Mal – Malfoy!" Hermione spluttered as her eyes rolled out of focus and the wind left her lungs.

Draco was going to kill her. She couldn't believe it.

Just as the thought entered her mind, the pressure on her neck subsided.

"You have no idea what you are talking about," Draco spat at her. He pushed himself up off the ground, collecting her wand once again, this time failing to return it.

Hermione rolled over onto her hands and knees, coughing and gasping for air. Her throat was raw, and she knew without feeling that red welts had already begun to appear on the sides of her neck where Draco's fingers had been moments before.

"Take me with you," Draco snarled, watching callously as she attempted to get to her feet.

"No."

Draco raised his wand portentously, aiming it straight at Hermione who hung her head in dejected defeat. She spun on her heel without a word, and began marching through the forest. Draco followed.


	2. Chapter 2

They had been walking for hours, in a circle.

Hermione was hoping that Draco would not notice.

She had been burrowing into the furthest regions of her brain in an attempt to devise some semblance of a plan to get herself out of her current predicament. Presently, the most intelligent plan she could formulate, sans wand, involved a swift kick in the direction of Draco's nether regions and a mad dash to safer pastures. Hermione took a brief moment to savour the imaginary pain and discomfort it would cause her unwanted companion and stifled a giggle. This was certainly not her finest hour.

Hermione could not believe her two years on the run had ended like this – taken captive by a deserter. How humiliating. When envisioning her capture, she had always pictured herself going down in a flourish of complicated spells, simultaneously fighting off three Death Eaters as they closed their ranks in on her. A fight to the death. Possibly a cameo by the Dark Lord. After all, she had once been important enough.

She had not considered the idea that her flighty nerves would get the best of her. Hermione was ashamed. It occurred to her that perhaps her Gryffindor courage had died with Harry. She had certainly never felt more alone and isolated.

She continued walking.

Draco, meanwhile, was silently berating himself as he trailed behind her. Five minutes into their trek, he had decided he had made the most idiotic decision of his entire life. Several hours later, and he was convinced.

By impulsively hitching his fate with Hermione's, he was certain his short time on Earth would end badly. It was probable that Death Eaters had already been dispatched to the Bialowieza Forest to deduce what had happened to their missing comrade. Draco was sure that he was at least important enough to warrant a considerable search of the area he was last seen. Perhaps they were still out there looking. Perhaps they were close. It would be unseemly for him to be discovered, wand in hand, forcing a Muggleborn to conceal him against her will. He was such a coward. The Dark Lord would have his head for this.

Draco had witnessed firsthand the cruelties of the new regime. He had even taken part in it, experienced it. The abhorrent violence was not the part he had the hardest time coming to terms with; as a child he had always been somewhat apathetic to the woes of others. No, it was the increasingly erratic ruling of the chosen leader. It was as though, in losing a sixth of his soul, Voldemort had lost his vision. His violence was no longer targeted at the Muggleborns and Muggles, but at magical beings of all blood strengths. His wrath ceased to have purpose and had become sporadic and entirely impossible to decipher.

Draco was lost in this thought when Hermione, who had been setting a brisk pace for them both, stopped suddenly. Draco ploughed into the back of her, knocking them both to the mossy forest floor. He was about to utter an obscenity when she aggressively pressed her soiled glove to his mouth and a bolt of fear flashed across her face. Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust but instantly held his breath and glanced about wildly, straining to hear or see what he was obviously missing.

It was in that moment Draco heard the unmistakable hum of magical energy coming from a familiar clearing several feet away from where he was now unceremoniously sprawled. He glanced murderously at Hermione who was doing her best to remain hidden. It was clear she had been leading him in a circle and had unwittingly returned them to the very same spot they had met.

It did not humble Draco to discover that wizards were in fact searching for him. Wizards he recognised, even with the silvery masks they donned to conceal their identity. The Death Eaters in the clearing were not allies. They were Death Eaters who were in close rank with the Dark Lord; wizards who were usually charged with the task of eradicating traitors. Draco wondered if he had been so transparent in his last few months of service.

As Draco pondered the likelihood that Voldemort was indeed aware of his shift in loyalty, Hermione was attempting to squash the choking panic rising in her throat. Twice in one day. She could not believe her unfortunate luck. Her flailing brain reasoned that the only possible way out of the current problem was magic. She needed her wand.

Taking advantage of Draco's preoccupation with his personal horror, Hermione made a lunge for her wand. Draco's lax grip worked in her favour and she managed to extract it in a single swoop.

Unfortunately, Draco was equally nimble and her triumph short lived.

Draco grasped Hermione's wrist with lightning speed. Caught in a vice, a silent tug-o-war ensued. Draco's nostrils flared as he held onto this last semblance of hope.

Hermione was petrified their private battle would alert the Death Eaters to her location.

She stopped fighting. Draco did not loosen his firm hold.

She put her face next to his ear and whispered, "Give me my wand and I'll take you with me".

Draco seemed to weigh her words for an agonizing second and then reluctantly released her.

Hermione breathed a silent sigh of relief, offered him her arm once more, and promptly Disapparated.

* * *

Draco found himself in a new, unfamiliar clearing. The sun was fading rapidly below the horizon and he illuminated the tip of his wand to gage a better view. The space was no larger than the Slytherin common room and was walled with an abundance of thick foliage. Underfoot, dirt and rotten leaves appeared undisturbed as though not a single creature had ventured across this path for an eternity. Draco could sense why, for the wall of trees that encircled him was slightly suffocating. Hermione had clearly taken him further into the Bialowieza Forrest than any human had gone before.

Hermione was busy muttering spells under her breath as she walked the edge of the clearing, finally stopping at the entrance of an ancient looking, hollowed oak tree.

"After you," she said after a minute, indicating to Draco that he should enter the hollow.

Draco glanced at her sceptically. When he had initially made the foolhardy decision to entrust Hermione with his life, he had done so in the knowledge that she would provide a safe and secure hiding place away from the volatile world he currently lived. Looking around at his surroundings, he began to wonder if perhaps the forest had made her a little crazy. A hollowed tree was not the sort of protection he had been expecting and it did not sit well with his penchant for comfort.

Hermione was offended by the look on Draco's face. She had submitted to his company begrudgingly, and now he was turning his nose up at her choice of accommodation. Well, he could head out into the icy cold, desolate forest all by himself for all she cared. Get eaten by a wolf, that would teach him.

"I didn't ask for your company Malfoy, so you can take the tree or leave it. The exit is that way", and she pointed in the direction of a small break in the trees.

Draco was not a naturist and he knew his limitations. The minute he stepped foot outside the clearing it was very likely he would be consumed by a bear. Spending most of his life within the protective realm of castles and manors, and having to practice nothing but paltry spells, he was aware that his magical ability would fail him in the elements.

With this revelation, his decision was made. Approaching the tree, he cautiously poked his head into the black hollow, giving Hermione the opportunity to shove him hard in the back.

He was falling forward. Unable to right himself, he let out a terrified scream as he tumbled headfirst into a black hole. It felt like he was falling for years and he was sure he was going to die as he approached a bright light which gaped wider as he plummeted. He cursed Hermione for her cunning, in ridding herself of him and wished a thousand painful deaths upon her.

Just as he had devised death number one thousand and one in his mind, his body pulled up sharply and then hit the floor with a thud. It was then that Draco realised he had shut his eyes in pure terror. Cracking his left eye open to make sure he wasn't in the pits of hell, he was stunned to discover he was lying face down on a worn down rug and that, beside him, a fire crackled in the heath.

He thanked his lucky stars.

Draco righted himself into a sitting position and dusted himself off, just as Hermione landed gracefully beside him.

With his world righted, Draco silently critiqued Hermione's magical handy work, deciding she had done a fairly good job creating crude living quarters in the roots of an old oak tree.

Warm and cosy, Hermione had utilised all her magical strength to create a comfortable home. The living room in which they had landed was small, containing a wooden table strewn with paperwork and mismatched chairs. The fire danced merrily in the heath, and an old and slightly lumpy lounge stood in the corner. Hermione had erected a makeshift kitchen with a single pot resting on a Muggle camping stove. It was obvious to Draco that this was the room she spent the majority of her time, for Hermione had hung an abundance of oil lanterns from the roof to provide continual light and the walls were plastered with maps, photographs and newspaper clippings. Off the living area was a single doorway, which Draco deduced led to a bedroom.

While Draco scrutinized his new surroundings, Hermione busied herself straightening chairs and hiding sensitive documents. An unwanted guest, Draco would prove to be a hindrance in her plans to overthrow the Dark Lord.

Housekeeping in order, Hermione turned to face Draco who had not moved from his seat on the floor. She considered him with a reproachful gaze as she mentally battled with herself over what to do. She could not allow him to stay there. Who knew his capabilities or motives? It was very likely he intended to murder her while she slept. The red welts on her neck were proof.

She did not have the provisions to sustain him either. She barely had enough food for herself. Going into town was dangerous enough, but supplying food for two people would certainly not go unnoticed amongst the locals who were already suspicious of their disappearing food.

"We need to work out what you are going to do," Hermione said, breaking the foreboding silence.

Draco whipped his head around to face her.

Hermione had taken her wand out, and was pointing it straight at his face. She had allowed a Death Eater into her hiding place, her home, and she needed him out.

Draco made a quick grab for his own wand, but Hermione was too quick.

"Expelliarmus!" she cried, and his wand flew through the air and landed neatly in her outstretched hand.

Draco rose quickly to his feet and folded his arms across his chest. Cocking his head to the side, he scrutinized Hermione for a long minute.

"Alright, you have my attention," he finally conceded, dropping gracefully into a weathered chair and indicating that Hermione should continue.

Hermione remained standing. She did not trust the ease with which Draco was adjusting to this new situation. She was wary. She knew what she must do.

"Incarcerous!"

Ropes flew from the tip of her wand, shooting out and binding Draco to the chair that he had foolishly occupied moments before. He gave an incredulous yelp and attempted to pull himself up, causing the chair to fall.

Hermione allowed herself a small grin.

* * *

A/N:

Thanks so much for reading. This is an un-betaed work in progress. Reviews appreciated.


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